


Laughter Lines (I'll See You)

by DeathMeetsLife



Series: are you going to age with grace? [1]
Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Kid Fic, Reconciliation, Single Parent Loki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-05-08 10:09:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5493404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeathMeetsLife/pseuds/DeathMeetsLife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He turned to meet the clear hazel eyes and smirking lips he knew would be waiting behind him. She seemed at once the same brazen, stringy girl he had last seen at seventeen and an entirely new, alluring stranger; however, the thought itself should not have surprised him – he had always known her entire being to be built around such contradictions. “Sif,” he greeted, not unpleasantly, though perhaps with a touch of caution. They had not parted on… congenial terms.<br/>He had not parted with any of them on congenial terms.<br/>His hesitation was laid to rest, however, when he noticed how her grin reached her eyes, making her entire continence seemingly glow in the low light of the book stacks.<br/>“Hello, Loki. How have you been?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Laughter Lines (I'll See You)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Warriorsqueen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warriorsqueen/gifts).



> Hello and welcome to my Mischief and Mistletoe 2015 piece! When I started this gift, I wholly intended on it being a one shot but? somehow? I want to do more?? So this'll probably turn into a series and yes.  
> SO WELCOME TO THE FIRST PART OF THE HARRY POTTER AU KIDFIC THAT YOU REQUESTED SORRY NOT SORRY  
> Happy Holidays, and I hope you enjoy, hon!

The scents of cinnamon and nutmeg filled the bookshop, the constant open-shut-open of the door fanning the aroma in from the café next door. Loki chose to bask in the smells, ignoring the rest of the hustle and bust that accompanied holiday shopping in Diagon Alley. His own miscreants were elsewhere – no doubt in that blasted jokes shop on the corner – leaving him to pick up both the spring school necessities as well as the gifts that would sit prettily under the evergreen in their sitting room. As he browsed Fen’s supply list, he pondered on the black owlet he has seen in the window earlier that morning. It was about time that the boy had a private owl, instead of sharing the well-aged family courier with his younger siblings.

“I know it’s been some time since I’ve seen you last,” a warm voice spoke over his shoulder. The familiar cadence sent shivers down his spine, “but I believe you already passed First Year Potions. Trounced us all, thoroughly, if I recall correctly.”

He turned to meet the clear hazel eyes and smirking lips he knew would be waiting behind him. She seemed at once the same brazen, stringy girl he had last seen at seventeen and an entirely new, alluring stranger; however, the thought itself should not have surprised him – he had always known her entire being to be built around such contradictions. “Sif,” he greeted, not unpleasantly, though perhaps with a touch of caution. They had not parted on… congenial terms.

He had not parted with _any_ of them on congenial terms.

His hesitation was laid to rest, however, when he noticed how her grin reached her eyes, making her entire continence seemingly glow in the low light of the book stacks.

“Hello, Loki. How have you been?”

Over a decade and a half raced through his mind, his triumphs and his failures, the joys of his children and the nights he regretted severing them from the family they never knew. Despite anything else he could have said, he found his lips forcing out only a single word. “Busy.” She flicked her gaze down to the leather bound tome in his hands, and he offered up the book with a shrug. “Spring shopping. My youngest seemed to have… misplaced her copy.” He actually had it on good authority that Hela had unceremoniously hurled her copy into the lake at Hogwarts, and Sleipnir typically refrained from exaggeration in his monthly reports on his younger siblings.

He did not need to. They were ridiculous enough on their own.

“And if _I_ recall correctly, Jamie Samson beat me out by two points.”

Sif chuckled under her breath, the sound sending him back to years of plotting in the common room and hiding from their victims in dark alcoves. “You never let him forget it! Though, I don’t think he ever knew who kept turning his uniform purple.”  
“He cheated on that final, and he knows it,” he retorted, tucking his shopping into his elbow. “Besides, he should thank me. He never would have known that aubergine was his color.” The pair walked together back to the shop keeper, and Loki handed over a handful of sickles to the over-eager teenager behind the counter. Probably a recent graduate, he thought to himself. “What brings you out on the most nightmarish shopping week of the year?”

Sif sagged visibly against the countertop. “I’ve been run ragged these past few weeks. I didn’t even realize it was December until this morning when I woke up to frost on my window!” Indeed, Loki noted, she looked exhausted, but in a way that radiated content. Draped in her maroon winter coat, with the tawny fur trim nestled against her throat, she looked like a recently victorious champion from one of the tales he had once spun for Jor as a child. “You’ve heard what’s become of Lorelai Masters, haven’t you?”

Loki nodded solemnly; he was familiar with the story. Lorelai had been a younger sibling of a fellow Slytherin, perhaps three or four years their junior. After leaving Hogwarts’ hallowed halls, however, she turned to a life of grand larceny, and, more recently and infamously, homicide. She had fled Britain to mainland Europe after a near-capture by the Ministry and had gone to ground.

“You’ve really become an Auror, then?” the heavy nod in response was accompanied by a proud, if tired, grin. “And she’s finally been apprehended? Brava, Sif.” She rolled her eyes, though she did appear to take his praise to heart.

“Found her in Marseille. Though you know how working with the French authorities can be – taking their sweet arse time to get _anything_ done!” They left the crowded bookstore and stepped out into the equally hectic cobblestone street.

“I work primarily with the Americans, actually,” Loki responded as he peered into the roiling masses to catch sight of his progeny. He spied Fen’s shock of black hair and broad shoulders towering over the crowd a good block or so away. Like he suspected: the prank shop. He took mental note to keep a keener eye about the house until his little monsters returned to school. “I also deal with foreign relations more than anything else.”

“That’s right, you’re working that transcultural initiative.”

Loki shrugged. “The magical communities are not nearly integrated enough. The Europeans deal almost entirely with other European ministries and governments, and the same applies to the African and Asian structures as well. The Americas have built a successful exchange between themselves, and I intend on tapping that resource.” Pointing his finger, he drew it down in the air in front of him. The air shimmered before parting, opening a small pocket dimension into which he placed his shopping. He pinched the seam closed again, waved his hand through the glinting air, and it disappeared. “The head of the States’ administration despises me, but Fury is very aware that I get things done. Not all of them are so difficult to deal with, though. I’ve become quite fond of them across the pond.”

Sif hummed in apparent agreement, and a lull in conversation stretched between them. Loki was by no means poor at small talk – he worked in politics, for Merlin’s sake – but his next questions stuck heavily on his tongue. His own words from years ago, petulant and _so damned angry_ , rang in this ears, and, not for the first time since he had estranged himself from his family, he felt regret tie a knot thick in his throat.

As if sensing the questions that ran circles in his mind – (how could she not; they hung heavy in the air, enough that he felt as though he could reach out and touch the aching words) – a tightness pulled at Sif’s mouth. “Your mother… she’s well. I’m actually due for lunch with her later this week.” Her eyes softened. “She’ll be glad to know that I’ve run into you.”

“Please,” the words caught, so he cleared them with a cough, “tell her… give her my regards.”

She had begun to nod even before he had finished his stilted request. She reached out and took his arm, and, even through the winter layers, he the electricity that had always followed her touch.

“You’re welcome back at the manor, you know. I am _certain_ they would love to know your family.”

Loki looked back down the narrow street to where he knew his children to be. “Not now. With Hela in her first years, she has enough on her plate without suddenly gaining all the distractions and fanfare that accompany the Odinsons.” He did not have to return his attention to her to know that she was pursing her lips in disagreement, that her chin was set stubbornly forward, though it seemed that time and maturity tempered her need to instantly spout her objections. “But… maybe this summer. After school lets out.” He glanced down at his boots. “Please tell my mother that.”

He felt her grip briefly tighten before loosening and sliding down to clasp his hand. When he shifted his gaze back to her face, any more words he night have had felt like they were punched out of him.

Her smiles had always been blinding in their intensity, but memory had worn down just how _warm_ they made him; he felt as if he had dragonfire coiled in his stomach.

“Of course, Loki.”

They let the moment hang around their shoulders like their winter cloaks. Loki opened his mouth to speak, but any air he had rushed out when what felt like a small cannonball collided with his side.

“Papa, you’ll never _believe_ what I found! But I can’t get it because Jor took my sickles to buy _gummy snakes_ , Papa, and he won’t even let me have _any_ , and Fen’s too distracted by Anthony Jacobs, and Sleipnir’s disappeared into the quiddich store, and –” Loki reached down with a sigh and buried his fingers through his daughter’s inky curls. She seemed only then to notice that he father was not alone. She hid her face in his cloak sleeve in embarrassment, but, knowing to keep her manners, she peeked out. “Hi.”

Sif dropped her hand from Loki’s, instead leveling it in front of the girl. “Hello. I like your headband.”

Hela absently reached up to touch the sparkling silver and green peeking through her curls before stretching out and grasping Sif’s proffered hand. “I like your fur.” They shook, and Hela allowed a soft giggle to escape her lips. The older woman smiled before letting go.

“Well,” Sif declared, drawing to her full height, “you seem to have your hands full at the moment! I’ll leave you to your shopping, then.”

Loki nodded and pulled lightly on one of Hela’s ringlets. Instead of bidding her farewell, however, he had a lingering inquiry hanging off of his tongue. “Sif, would you… give my regards to Thor, as well?”

She practically glowed at his request. “He’ll like that, Loki.”

He resisted the facetious urge to roll his eyes. “I’m sure he will.”

Sif nodded, and looked down at the young girl at his hip. “It was nice meeting you.”

“You, too,” Hela replied politely.

“Goodbye, Loki.”

He opened his mouth to echo to sentiment, but he could not bring himself to say anything but, “I’ll be seeing you, Sif.”

She grinned another one of those blinding grins – does she even _realize_ how those affect the people around her? _Merlin_ – and disappeared into the flow of the crowd, swept away with the rest of the holiday shoppers. Loki continued to look after her until he felt a bony finger jabbing into his side. “Yes, Hela?”

“Who was that? I’ve never seen her before.”

“Her name is Sif. She was a… friend, growing up.”

“Oh.” Her eyes, the same bright ice chips of her mother’s, regarded him perceptively. “What happened?”

“Papa was a git, is what happened. Now, what was that you were saying about Jormungand?”

“Oh, you don’t even _know_ , he does this at school, too, when we go to Hogsmede, and he never shares!”

Loki let his daughter lead him through the crowd to her brothers, her words washing over him like the bright afternoon sun. He hummed along in all the right places, threw in a few “how could he” remarks for good measure. He glanced back into the crowd, absentmindedly hoping for a final glimpse, but the sweep of dark hair he was searching for was long gone.

“ _Papa_ are you even _listening_ , this is _important_.”

“Of course, of course.”


End file.
